


The Pekari Opportunity

by LordNesquik



Series: Night Reading [2]
Category: Nocturnal - Fandom, YouNeedTheCage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24819418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordNesquik/pseuds/LordNesquik
Summary: A crime scene in a Cage government office, and a murder that never stops leading downwards.
Series: Night Reading [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795237
Kudos: 1





	1. Aftermath

The crime scene was, in a word, incomprehensible.

It resembled the investigative thought experiments that wandered between puzzlers of all sorts through word of mouth. Something Ezeki would ponder when he couldn’t sleep. Two bodies – one fake, one real – pinned by a single bolt to a hardwood door. An empty crossbow in the office of an official. Papers neatly organized on the office’s large desk, and a snuffed-out candle.

Ezeki stood in the center of the evidence, between the open door hung with bodies and the desk on which lie the guilty crossbow. The amber fur that covered most of his wiry body looked pale in the similarly-colored lantern light from the hall. He adjusted his heavy coat and took a small book out from inside it, taking a glass pen with a self-contained inkwell out from inside its hollow spine and idly feeling its sharp nib.

Beside him stood Desmond, the Flame that the Cage’s chapter had sent to escort his investigation. They had met in the chapter building, but all Ezeki had exchanged with him were pleasantries. He was shorter than Ezeki and clearly young, but his silent stillness and black-and-deep-blue fur seemed to betray his age. Ezeki glanced down at him and raised an eyebrow. He was the youngest Flame to ever accompany him on a murder investigation.

“Desmond, was it?” Ezeki prompted.

“Yes,” he responded with a curt nod.

“Right, thank you. What can you tell me about this room?” Ezeki followed up, gesturing his arm at his surroundings.

“It belonged to Tamios Shiguto, the victim. He was the governor’s accountant.”

“And the false body? Does it resemble anyone you know?”

“A generic Flame,” Desmond answered after some hesitation. “Nobody, but if they were real, they wouldn’t look out of place among the rest.”

Ezeki nodded and looked the small office over once more. It was comfortably sized for face-to-face meetings and lonely work, but small enough to make a third person feel unwanted. Light poured in from the door he’d struggled to open and illuminated the front and top of the desk. The rest, however, was mostly obscured by darkness. The use of the candle was perhaps the only thing Ezeki understood about the room.

His eyes drifted back to the bodies on the door. Even as they were smothered in shadow, Ezeki could spot the unsettling difference between the two’s wounds. The stuffed mock-up looked like an impaled pillow, while the victim’s shattered skull was very clearly organic. Still, more detail was impossible to see without direct light.

Ezeki stepped back towards the door and poked his long, slender snout into the hallway, turning his head left and right. The wing of the capital that held the crime scene was silent. He spotted a figure who stood in the middle of the hall a few doors down, idly staring at the door Ezeki was peeking from. He politely waved a paw, and the figure shook their head, affixing their eyes to the floor and walking away from the crime scene.

He sighed and stepped out, grabbing a lantern off the hook it hung from. As he turned around to step back inside the office, the tip of the crossbow bolt stuck in the door met him just below eye level and nearly scratched his nose. Leaning in to take a closer look, Ezeki saw the tip was clean of blood. He nodded in realization and turned back towards the office.

He carried the lantern back into the room and drew a fire-starter from his coat, setting the lantern in the empty guest chair and lighting it. Its wick jumped to life and illuminated the area under the desk. To Ezeki’s surprise, it wasn’t open, but rather had a sheet of wood that separated the legroom of the two sides.

Ezeki’s eyes opened wide for a moment as he noticed this. He stood up straight, grabbing the lantern and quietly rushing to the other side. Near the feet of the owner’s chair was a shadowy shelf set into the side of the desk, where one of the drawers should be. Ezeki grabbed the crossbow off the desk and set it inside the hidden shelf. It was a perfect fit, and once he drew the lantern away the secret compartment was engulfed entirely in shadow.

He smiled, grabbed the crossbow out of the shelf, and stood up straight.

“I suppose the obvious question is if anyone wanted Shiguto dead,” Ezeki spoke indifferently to Desmond.

“He wasn’t involved in anything I’d heard of, but I’m not the best person to ask about that,” Desmond responded casually.

“You don’t keep up with local scandals?”

“Not about people.”

“Do you know why they sent you?” Ezeki asked, doing his best not to sound offensive. “Not that you’re inadequate, but the top Flames usually like sending seniority to watch over a case like this.”

“Most of the older Flames are always on patrol.”

“I suppose in a place like the Cage, most of them are preoccupied with managing the living rather than perusing the dead,” Ezeki agreed, shooting Desmond a sly smile. “Their loss.”

He picked the lantern up from the desk and set the crossbow down in its place. Following his earlier train of thought, he stepped back around the desk and towards the bodies. The lantern provided ample light to inspect them further. What caught his attention more than the bodies, however, was the bolt that hung them. Its fletching was caked with blood in stark contrast to its tip.

The fake body, as best he could tell from the hole made by the bolt, was filled with wool. Ezeki drew one of its arms up with his paw and felt its weight. It was heavy enough to be still in the air but light enough to leave some room inside.

He’d dealt with fake forms before. They were expensive tools made by highly specialized artists, and only useful after years of practice. An afflicted using one was a sure sign of premeditation and usually hinted at larger organized involvement. At the same time, a hidden weapon at least signified that Shiguto expected to be attacked, or more likely planned to draw someone into his office and kill them.

Ezeki squinted his eyes in confusion once more. His efforts had produced answers, but the scene seemed just as confusing as when he walked in. A murder seemingly planned by both parties. An accountant with a hidden weapon and an afflicted with a Shadow disguise.

New questions arose in his mind about the given identities. A simple accountant would never garner enough attention to need a crossbow, let alone prompt an assassination. Resources that deep could’ve dealt the Cage a greater blow by killing the governor themselves.

He looked back towards Shiguto’s desk. The papers that stacked high around the crossbow looked untouched, as did the rest of the room besides the door. Ezeki walked towards the writings, craning his neck downwards to pick a sheet up and read it. Most of it was financial registries filled with hastily-scrawled numbers and illegible signatures. Without looking up, he slowly wandered behind the desk, setting down the paper he was reading and opening a drawer instead.

It contained more papers still. Different than the others, though, Ezeki instantly noticed that these papers seemed to consist solely of one person’s handwriting. They were exchange logs validated by a myriad of names he didn’t recognize, but every page resembled one another in a way he couldn’t place. At random, he picked up some of the papers in the drawer and compared them to those on the desk.

Ezeki’s eyes opened wide in sudden understanding. Every name and signature on the documents that wasn’t Shiguto’s own were blatant forgeries. Appalling amounts of gold flowed from real people to false names for sham projects.

He couldn’t quell his laughter.

“This is the most spectacular thing I’ve ever had the displeasure of reading,” he nervously giggled towards Desmond.

“What is?”

“Shiguto, he wasn’t an accountant. He was a conman, and a bold one! He’d spent years entrenching himself here – every piece of gold the governor thought he owned was right at Shiguto’s fingertips.”

Desmond paused, taking a long, thoughtful breath before speaking.

“I suppose that is a reason someone would want him dead.”

Ezeki grinned. “Very much so,” he laughed in affirmation. “In fact, I finally get it.”

“You understand what happened here?” Desmond asked.

“Not the step-by-step, but I know why Shiguto died. It was turf war. He was stealing gold that another criminal, or more likely an organization, wanted control over, so they sent their own afflicted assassin with that false body to take care of him,” Ezeki answered, gesturing towards the first body on the bolt.

“So that’s what that fake was,” Desmond resolved. “A false body.”

“Creepy things that Shadows can slip inside and walk around. They’re quite the tools, only available to those with real connections,” Ezeki explained.

“And where does one learn about that?” Desmond asked, tilting his head. Ezeki put his paws up in a gesture of innocence.

“Hey, I don’t glow, kid. But I am good at solving murders committed by those who do. Whenever the local chapter can’t figure it out, they send for me.”

“I see. I did not mean to seem accusatory,” Desmond apologized.

“That’s alright. I’ve dealt with worse,” Ezeki strained in response as he stretched out the lingering ache that had settled while he hunched over the desk.

“You said this was a method of turf war?”

“Yes, some afflicted crime ring didn’t like Shiguto playing with all the government’s gold. Why?”

“If that’s so,” Desmond followed up, “I know a place you may be interested in.”

“Local expertise has never guided me wrong. What do you know?”

Desmond glanced at the door before continuing. His voice was quieter.

“There’s a crossroad of alleyways near here that’s caught my attention often. Sometimes it’s a suspicious figure, other times an unmarked crate or bag.”

“You think it’s a dead drop hotspot?” Ezeki prompted curiously.

“If that’s what they’re called,” Desmond agreed.

“That _is_ helpful. We’d need a safe place to watch it from, else our potential catch will see us and bug out.”

“We?” Desmond questioned, his expression skeptical of Ezeki.

“Well, you are the Flame overseeing this investigation, no? Besides, if we do find someone, I don’t have the authority to hold them captive. You do.”

“Isn’t this an experienced afflicted assassin we’re dealing with? Surely you don’t just plan on tackling them.”

Ezeki sighed in defeat.

“That was my plan, yes. If we bring some torches to keep the area lit, he won’t be able to retreat into his Shadow, and if he’s not expecting us it’ll be over without a fight,” Ezeki assured. Desmond squinted at him viciously.

“You’re asking me to do this?” He interrogated.

“If there’s a mole for their criminal friends in the chapter, this opportunity could disappear as soon as anyone else knows what you’ve seen. We need to strike before they can change their routine and disappear. There’s no telling if we ever get another chance to use this lead.”

Desmond hesitated. With a long sigh, he extended a paw upwards towards Ezeki.

“I’ll help you,” Desmond agreed. “But if it comes to it, I won’t hesitate to abandon the plan. I am not beholden to you.”

Ezeki took his paw and gave it a firm, genuine shake.

“I’d never ask you to be,” he accepted, giving Desmond a devious grin. “I’ll meet you here after a good night’s rest and follow you to the spot. As for me, I’ve got to go tell the Flames about Shiguto.”

“If we catch them tomorrow, what will we do with them?” Desmond idly asked.

“We’ll ask them a few questions of our own and turn them over to the Flame.”

Desmond tilted his head.

“You know what the Flame will do to them, right?”

Ezeki laughed as he grabbed his borrowed lantern and stepped towards the door.

“Teaches them not to play with fire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Cage is so much fun to write in. Don't misunderstand me, I love the IMMORTAL ark, but the setting of The Cage always gets me brainstorming.


	2. Follow-up

Ezeki leaned against the door jamb, idly tapping his paw against its chilly surface. His eyes were wide yet tired as he constantly scanned the hallway around him. He had arrived before any of the capital’s employees, and the building was bathed in darkness. The only source of light around him was the wall lantern that he’d lit as soon as he made it back to the crime scene.

Two metal torches leaned on the wall next to him. They were unlit, but their thick, rope-like wicks were fresh and saturated with oil. Carrying them through the Cage had worn out his arms.

The sound of steps echoed through the left side of the hall and into Ezeki’s ear. He flicked his head in their direction, his eyes tracing the edge of the hallway’s entrance. Nothing came into view.

For one paranoid moment, Ezeki turned and leaned across the door, grabbing the bright lantern off its hook. He hastily turned his eyes back to the left side of the hallway to the sight of a dark shape moving towards him. Instinctively, he hopped backwards and extended the lantern as far towards it as possible.

The light it cast lit up Desmond’s dark fur and painted his shadow down the hallway.

“You are here earlier than I expected,” Desmond responded blankly, blinking at the sudden influx of light. Ezeki sighed deeply in relief and let his arms fall to his sides.

“You more so,” he echoed with a tired stretch. “I show up early enough to beat an ambush. It’s saved my life before.”

“You take dangerous cases?”

“No case is dangerous. Dead bodies aren’t dangerous. The people that make them are,” Ezeki explained with a yawn.

“Showing up tired certainly won’t make it any safer,” Desmond asserted.

“Can’t sleep anyway. Let’s get moving, else our catch might beat us there.”

Desmond nodded slowly, turning around and gesturing for Ezeki to follow. He lazily pushed himself from the door frame and crouched to pick up his torches. With some strain, he carried one in each paw and followed.

Even the Cage’s early-rising officials were yet to arrive at work as Desmond walked to the capital’s entrance. The capital district was devoid of life beyond the last of the Flame’s late patrol and Assembly employees hurriedly carrying out errands before their shifts began.

“So, what exactly are you looking for?” Ezeki prompted.

“It’s a triangular cross of three alleyways, a few turns in from the main street,” Desmond described, pointing in a general direction. “I patrol close enough to see it often, but I’m far enough that they haven’t noticed and moved the drop. The capital’s back alley connects to it by a short route.”

“You think that’s where our culprit picked up his disguise?”

“Judging by the details you’ve given about it, I believe that is true,” Desmond agreed.

“In that case,” Ezeki followed, extending one of his two torches towards Desmond, “they’ll most likely be back to pick up their payment or next assignment. Today, if we’re lucky, but otherwise we can see if there’s anything to learn from the drop itself.”

“Shouldn’t we investigate what’s there before they reach it either way?” Desmond suggested as he took the torch from Ezeki’s paw.

“They could notice and leave. We want its contents to be a distraction so we can move in with the light before they notice. Speaking of,” Ezeki continued, twirling his torch once in his hand, “these won’t work unless we use them properly. Keep it low and tilt it towards our target, but make sure they don’t extinguish it,” he explained, imitating his instructions with his torch.

Desmond nodded, adjusting his grip so that his paw was higher on the torch’s handle.

“Perfect,” Ezeki affirmed. “Don’t brand them with it. You’ll snuff the torch and they’ll vanish.”

“How much experience do you have with fighting the afflicted?” Desmond asked. Ezeki racked his head from side to side in consideration.

“Fight is a poor word for it. I’ve detained plenty of them, and to do that you have to surprise them, outnumber them, and cut them off from their abilities. They’re dastardly clever but their ideas revolve around their afflictions.”

Desmond took a sharp turn into an alleyway, and Ezeki skidded on one paw to follow. The route he took through the Cage’s winding backstreets was chaotic yet well-practiced. After a series of similarly hard-to-follow twists, Desmond stopped dead in his tracks, and Ezeki nearly tripped over him.

“I take it this is the spot?” Ezeki asked as he steadied himself.

“That is,” Desmond sputtered, gesturing his head to the left towards a junction of alleyways. Ezeki glanced down it and saw a triangular open space connecting three paths just as Desmond had described.

“Let’s not be near it for long, else we may scare them off,” Desmond continued.

“Got it.”

Ezeki looked both ways down the alley they had stopped in. Behind him and outside the alley, he could see a lonely bench in an alcove otherwise open as a market floor. Turning exactly around, Ezeki saw that the dead drop was conveniently aligned to be visible from the bench.

“I’ll keep watch from out there,” Ezeki explained, pointing out towards the bench. “Get somewhere on the other side where you can see me but can’t be seen from the drop. Once I light my torch, move in.”

Desmond nodded. Ezeki pulled a fire starter out from his coat and leaned over slightly to light Desmond’s torch. It sputtered to life and hissed as it burned away at the dripping excess oil, spattering their shadows against the alley walls.

“Once we have him surrounded, I’ll take them to the ground while you keep them lit. You’ll restrain them.”

“Restrain with what?” Desmond prompted. Ezeki’s eyes opened wider for a moment, and he dug around his coat before withdrawing several lengths of rope. They glistened with an unusual, stranded sheen.

“These,” Ezeki answered gladly. “Rope laced with metal. Flexible, but much harder to snap or untie. Still, tie them halfway up their forearms so they can’t reach the knot.”

“Understood,” Desmond agreed, grabbing the rope and spooling it around his upper arm. Ezeki nodded and turned to walk towards the bench in the distance.

“This’ll be easy as long as we move fast and don’t hesitate. Good luck,” Ezeki spoke as he walked away.

“Fortune is for the unprofessional,” Desmond responded as he turned to walk the other way down the alley. Ezeki smiled as he returned to the open streets of the Cage.

Behind him was a wall stacked tall with doors, windows, and signs, complete with a system of bridges and ladders to scale up it. The alley he had left looked minuscule in comparison to the rest of the Cage. He continued outwards, crossing the empty street and taking a seat at the solitary wooden bench across from the alley. It was hardly even noticeable, made up of two metal supports and three planks of horizontal wood.

Ezeki adjusted himself so he looked out from its short side. At the edge of his vision, he could still see the dead drop, but he took care not to look directly at it. He set the end of his torch on the ground, leaned one of his arms into it, and waited.

Around him, the Cage and its inhabitants went about their lives. First, adults poured into the streets, chatting mildly and stocking from the countless grocery stands. Children tussled and talked on their way to school among them soon after. Slowly, the crowds filtered out, and Ezeki watched them work & learn from glowing windows.

Flame patrols passed him constantly, draped in crimson and beige. He recognized some of their faces from his paperwork in the chapter house. None of them even gave Ezeki a passing glance.

Gradually, the bustle returned to the streets. First, children filled the streets once more, some tired after a long day of class, and others somehow more energetic than before. A few were followed closely by their parents who interrogated them about their day of school and feigned interest as they listened.

Far in the distance, a shred of movement caught Ezeki’s eye. A dark figure stepped into the alley. It turned its head in two directions, once at Ezeki and once directly away from him. After a moment, it looked satisfied, returning its eyes to the ground beneath itself.

Ezeki pulled his fire starter from his coat, pushed himself up off his torch, and grabbed it with his other paw. He tossed the torch up and caught it in his jaws for just long enough to start it with his other two paws. As the flame sparked to life, a drop of flaming oil fell off the wick, and Ezeki pulled his leg backwards to narrowly dodge it.

He quickly let the torch fall into his left paw and held it close to his chest. With a tenacious expression, he plunged head-first into the crowd. Mostly made up of children, it parted easily to avoid the torch, though a few parents tossed him casual swears as he pushed through the flow of creatures.

As he reached the entrance to the alley, Ezeki saw another fire past the figure. He gestured towards it by subtly waving his torch, which it mirrored soon after. They were the only other light Ezeki could see in the alley. Between the two, the shadowed figure continued to inspect some payload Ezeki couldn’t make out.

With a deep breath, Ezeki extended his torch as far out as possible and sprinted towards the figure. He saw the other torch do the same and in a moment the two’s light met, illuminating the dead drop from both sides.

“For the Great Flame, you are suspected of murder. Surrender!” Desmond’s voice rang out with cold confidence.

The figure snapped to focus. It looked at Desmond, twitch-turned to look at Ezeki, and sprang onto its feet to flee down the one alley that they didn’t block. Expecting this, Ezeki side-stepped into the way. He extended one leg out to trip the figure before intentionally throwing himself under it. As they smashed onto the ground together, Ezeki used one arm to hug his torch close to his chest and wrapped the other around the figure, anchoring it to the ground.

“Get his arms!” Ezeki shouted. Desmond walked towards the figure, but before he restrained it, Ezeki heard a sickening crack from the figure’s feet. He looked down to see Desmond had snapped the figure’s ankle against the ground. The figure was wincing and writhing in pain as Desmond collected its arms and tied them behind its back before rolling it off Ezeki.

“Goodness, kid. Get his legs next,” Ezeki sighed as he set his torch down near the figure and pushed himself up. The fur in the middle of his chest was charred from the fire. He brushed the ashes off himself and looked at the figure further.

It looked male and was fully-grown, certainly older than Ezeki. Accents of black ran through his purple fur, mostly concentrated around his small, all-black paws. His long, thin ears extended out at a shallow angle from his head, and his frame was dense yet small. His eyes were a stormy blue.

Ezeki turned his eyes from the figure and yawned. Desmond stepped over the broken ankle and tied his legs together twice with the rope Ezeki had provided – once above the knees, and again below them.

“See? It worked like a charm,” Ezeki spoke lazily.

“Damn both of you!” The figured hissed up.

“You said you had questions?” Desmond asked Ezeki. Their prisoner attempted to roll, but swiftly regret it and winced in pain.

“I do,” Ezeki answered as he turned his head downwards. “I’d like to be as polite as possible here. Say, what’s your name?”

“Your attempts are futile. You will regret interfering with the Shade,” he barked back.

“The Shade. It feels good to be right. Well, Shadester, can you tell me what you were doing in this secluded alleyway?” Ezeki interrogated, smiling and tilting his head to add insult to injury.

“I won’t just rot in prison as you’d appreciate,” he responded with continuing resistance.

“Rotting in prison is what you were already doing,” Ezeki pointed out matter-of-factly. “I can assure you, your end will be much faster and warmer – unless you provide an incentive to be kept alive.”

“Alive to do what, await my execution?”

Ezeki almost continued, but another voice spoke over his own.

“We should just take him to the chapter house,” Desmond suggested. The figure snapped his eyes onto him.

“And you, you naïve, stunted little-”

The figure halted mid-sentence. His mouth hung slightly agape and his pupils dilated in an instant.

“Reconsidering?” Ezeki asked. The figure cut off the end of his word.

“It’s you,” the figure stammered. He tilted his head towards Desmond, who merely closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Ezeki narrowed one eye at Desmond with confusion.

“Is there something I should know?” Ezeki asked. He gave no response.

“I wondered why I recognized you,” the figure continued, pulling his head up from the ground. “How did I not see it before? When you disappeared, you became a Flame to hide! You’re the Kappie’s kid!”

“Desmond, what haven’t you told me?” Ezeki inquired with panic, grabbing his still-lit torch off the ground. Desmond moved towards the figure and yanked him up from the ground.

“Your parents are very angry with you,” the figure laughed into Desmond’s ear despite the obvious pain in his voice. “That’s alright. They’ll be able to exact discipline on their pathetic turncoat son soon.”

Desmond threw him into Ezeki’s arms, who did his best to keep the figure lit with his torch. Ezeki gaped at Desmond with utter confusion in his eyes. Desmond locked eyes with him and spoke in a lethally serious tone of voice.

“Act as though you captured him alone. A patrolling Flame will take both of you to the chapter house. Do not tell anyone I was involved. If they learn, we are both in grave danger.”

“Oh, you are in grave danger regardless-”

Desmond slammed his paw into the side of the figure’s mouth. His snarky threat turned into a yelp of pain.

“Once you are done, meet me in the market that arises across the street outside this alley,” Desmond continued. “I will explain everything.”

“Why should I trust you?” Ezeki desperately responded.

“You already have,” Desmond responded in a dry tone of voice. He set his paws on their prisoner and shoved both him and Ezeki down an alley towards the bustling open street of the Cage.

“ _Hey!_ ” Ezeki shouted as they stumbled back down the alley. As Ezeki fell, he saw Desmond disappear down one of the many alleys that spread from the dead drop. He shut his eyes as he crashed to the ground, the prisoner falling to the ground beside him and shouting in pain. His torch fell from his hand and landed between the two.

As he recovered, Ezeki heard the scratching of paws on the dirty alley floor moving towards him. He pushed himself up from the ground and onto his knees just in time to see three Flames run into view from around the worn brick corners that made up the junction. One was an older creature, coated in crimson fur with short ears. The other two seemed to be perfect sister twins, both with brown fur, long tails, and large, triangular ears.

“What’s going on here?” The eldest asked with a lit torch in his hand. The two younger Flames stood behind him, weapons already in hand.

“This fool just tried to mug me,” Ezeki improvised before thinking about it, gesturing towards the nearly-unconscious prisoner beside him. “I was able to restrain him.”

“Are you hurt?” The eldest asked while waving to the two younger ones. They put up their weapons, stepped around the older Flame, and hauled the tied-up figure to his feet. At this, he winced in pain once more before falling limp in their arms.

“No, but he sure is,” Ezeki explained. “Not mortally, but he won’t be walking anywhere for a while.”

“Alright. We’re taking you both to the chapter house. Don’t resist and this can be over quickly and painlessly.”

“I’m sure,” Ezeki sighed.


	3. Pursuit

The only thing Ezeki could see as he panned his head across the popup market were the crowds that bustled through it. Countless creatures of all shapes, sizes, and colors moved from place to place, chattering to one another and the shopkeepers behind the stalls. Some ebbed in or out of the lantern-lit alcove, arms carrying sacks and bags.

With a fatigued groan, he dove into the fray, panning his eyes low to look for Desmond. The stalls he wandered by near the entrance to the market sold aggressively fragrant herbs and spices he couldn’t identify. Reasoning that Desmond would have no interest in such superfluous things, he looked towards the back of the alcove to storefronts stacked high with vegetables, flour, and other basic ingredients.

Ezeki pushed himself into the more general section of the market. The area was just as populated, but the crowd was not as constantly in motion near the back of the alcove. He weaved his way in between chattering adults and patient children, his eyes snapping from face to face in his search. Every failure added onto his mounting frustration.

“What can I help you with, sir?”

The voice rang clearly into Ezeki’s right ear over the clamor of the crowd. Turning his head towards it, he saw an aged Olet with deep brown feathers and short ears. He stood behind a market stall stacked high with crates of vegetables and spicing roots. His green eyes faced towards Ezeki, but they didn’t quite look at him.

“I’m not here for anything, my apologies,” Ezeki responded, sliding aside to move out of the way of the stall.

“Oh, I was speaking to the young man here,” the owner clarified, gesturing downwards at another figure perusing the crates. “Sorry to confuse you.”

Ezeki nodded in understanding as he walked away. As he did, he turned his head subtly to steal a glance at who the owner was speaking to. He nearly looked away again before he saw Desmond’s accents of blue fur and telltale expressionless face.

“Desmond!” Ezeki whisper-shouted, his tone berating. A few nearby individuals shot him siding glares, and he stopped before saying anything more.

“Let me finish this,” he calmly requested, his eyes still hovering over the various vegetables in the stall’s crates. He slowly raised a paw to gesture Ezeki to be patient. Against Flame protocol, his crimson sash was off, though he carried a pouch of gold affixed tightly to his wrist.

“Oh, I see,” the shop keeper realized. He turned his head towards Ezeki. “Are you his father?”

“Goodness no,” Ezeki denied. “Pity whoever is, really. Does he come here often?”

“He’s one of my regulars, in fact. But if you aren’t his father, what are you doing looking for him?”

“Three of these, please,” Desmond interrupted, his paw on one of the vegetable-filled crates. His tone was ice-cold, and it make Ezeki’s spine shiver. “It’s rude to ask questions about people you don’t know.”

“Twelve for those. I didn’t mean anything by it, truly,” the keep apologized desperately.

“Then don’t do it again,” Desmond continued as he counted the gold out of his pouch onto his paw. He rose it up towards the keep, who took it from him with a fearful glance, set it into some bin hidden behind the stall, and nodded for Desmond to take his purchase.

Once he collected his due into a burlap bag, Desmond nodded at the owner and gave them an empty smile. Ezeki looked on with surprise, pursuing Desmond as he walked into the crowd without another word. Wading through the crowd, the two walked towards the front of the market.

Ezeki was almost relieved before Desmond took a sharp left and moved towards another market stall.

“You’re not going to make me interrogate you while you do your grocery shopping,” Ezekiel asserted through the crowd that flowed between them.

“Apparently, I didn’t have to,” Desmond agreed facetiously. “You already are.”

“Is it so inconvenient to just leave the market?”

“If I left the market, I’d go home, and then when would you ask me questions?”

Ezeki sighed deeply and stopped in his tracks, the crowd flowing around him. His expression was uncharacteristically genuine.

“You helped me investigate a murder,” Ezeki spoke, his tone devoid of its normal enthusiasm. “I followed your lead, and you helped me detain a guilty criminal. But when the time came to cart him out, you refused your glory. There’s something here you’re willing to sacrifice for, and I want to help you get it. But if we’re going to work together, we can’t pretend we’re indifferent, and we can’t be difficult with each other.”

Desmond paused for a moment that seemed to stretch in time. He slowly turned his head to look at Ezeki.

“Fine. Follow me and we’ll talk more,” Desmond accepted.

He pivoted away from the market stall he’d walked towards and towards the entrance to the market. Ezeki followed close behind, keeping his eye on the gap between heads that Desmond’s short form created.

Ezeki breathed a sigh of long-overdue relief as he broke free of the busy alcove. Desmond kept his pace, and Ezeki jogged for a moment to walk beside him. The sound of the crowd slowly faded into silence as they walked through the Cage’s capital district. Its streets were spotless and barren compared to the Gutter, but a few individuals still navigated their way to take care of after-work errands. The walls were not as covered in advertising signage and the paths that ran up the walls were neater and more secure.

Desmond led him towards an out-of-the-way corner of the district. It was a dead end, with expensive buildings climbing all the way up the far wall of the Cage. He walked around the curve and stopped at a small planter surrounded by benches, sitting down on one’s short edge. It was filled with short grasses and voluminous green bushes with budded flowers. The edges of it were rough white stone, carved in straight lines.

“What became of our convict?” Desmond asked skeptically, looking down at the greens spilling over the edge of the planter.

“Just like you predicted, a Flame patrol jumped on us,” Ezeki explained exasperatedly as he sat on a different bench nearby. “They grabbed him, he fell unconscious, we were both taken to the chapter house. They threw him in a cell, and I had to do an eye-straining amount of paperwork to leave. Wasn’t even long ago I made it out of there.”

Desmond nodded slowly to show his consideration.

“His name is Okasio Pekari, and I used to work with him. Not directly, but we were acquainted.”

“Were you a part of the Shade?” He asked, narrowing has eyes at Desmond.

“I was, although not by choice. My mother and father – Jessica and Remah Castiago – were members, and they used me to further the power of the Shade.”

“Pekari said they wanted to ‘exact their discipline’, so how powerful were they? Common thugs, or part of the inner circle?” Ezeki inquired, interrupting Desmond between sentences.

“The Shade was founded by my parents. It belongs to the Castiago family, and I was to be its heir,” he reluctantly explained. “My real name is Axel Castiago.”

Ezeki opened his eyes wide, whistling in an impressed manner.

“That’s why Pekari was excited to see you. So, what went wrong? Why are you a Flame and not a mob boss?”

Desmond sighed deeply and continued.

“I believe the root of it all is my lack of affliction. Remah was a shadow, but Jessica was not. They were disappointed I was not a shadow as well, and though they tried to be kind I could sense it in the way they treated me. It only pushed me to work harder for them.”

“That’s got to be the first time someone’s been disappointed their child _wasn’t_ afflicted,” Ezeki noted.

“My parents knew the Shade wouldn’t accept a dim individual as their leader. Whether or not they cared about my future, the fact that they had no real successor made their contacts far less comfortable about working with them. If either of them died, the Shade might collapse, and anyone associated with them would be put at risk as well.”

“So why not adopt someone else as the heir, even if they weren’t Castiago?” Ezeki interrogated, turning

“They certainly didn’t tell me why, though I estimate that there was nobody they trusted enough,” Desmond reasoned. “The Shade was – and still is – a young organization that had a swift rise to power. Any other heir was likely to subvert their power and take their place early rather than wait for them to retire.”

“I see,” Ezeki resolved. “So, you’re born as the not-so-rightful heir to the Shade. What does that mean for you?”

“My parents raised me as an enforcer for the Shade. Mostly just an arm with an axe,” Desmond admitted. “Whether they did so because they had nothing else to do with me, or they wanted to make me feared enough to run the Shade despite my lack of affliction, I don’t know. Regardless, they taught me that the Shade was good, that the Flames and bounty hunters were enemies, and how to check if a body was dead.”

“They sound dedicated,” Ezeki commented in an apologetic tone. “But you’re here now, so you must’ve seen through it.”

“I noticed inconsistencies all the time. I wondered why I had to hurt people at all for something so supposedly innocent, let alone do it as an occupation. I didn’t understand why so many would stand against us in the name of justice if they were evil. Those doubts built over time, but what made me want to leave the Shade was realizing my place in it all.”

Desmond stopped and looked at Ezeki, seemingly prompting him to ask something. Ezeki simply gave him a quizzical look and twirled his paw, gesturing for him to continue speaking.

“It was a kidnapping job,” Desmond recalled. “An Assembly member was refusing to comply with the Shade. Me and three other crew members were to kidnap the adult daughter of one of their close friends, take her to an abandoned building, and incinerate her alive as the Flames do.”

“That’s a lot to ask a kid to do,” Ezeki spoke, his curios expression fading slightly.

“Initially, I didn’t think twice. She still lived with her parents, though, and I caught a glimpse of them as they slept. It gave me a feeling I couldn’t name. I was restless, but why and to do what I had no idea at the time.

We snuck her out and took her to the planned location without interruption. I was left to keep our hostage secure while the rest of the crew picked up the equipment for the murder. Once they left, the anxious feeling I had rose until it was the only thing I could think about. On impulse, I took a glance at myself in the reflection of my axe.”

“What did you see?” Ezeki asked skeptically.

“Nothing unusual,” Desmond explained. “Just me, as I was at the time. But I shuddered at the sight. Some part of me feared the rest of myself, like it was trapped in a body with a monster. And from that, all at once, I realized all the terrible things I’d done, the effect I’d had on the Cage, and the fact that I couldn’t change any of it.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Ezeki spoke, trying to offer comfort. “Your parents manipulated you. You couldn’t have known any better.”

“I understand that now,” Desmond reassured, “But at the time I was simply overwhelmed with wrath. I decided I couldn’t spend another day with the Shade. I waited outside the location, waited for the rest of the crew to return, and killed all three of them. I cut their hostage from her ties and watched her leave.”

“That’s quite a redemption. Did she say anything to you?”

“I can’t remember. I have trouble recalling most things that happened on that day,” Desmond noted. “I was hardly in control of my own body. All I knew was that they had to die, and she had to live.”

“Understandable,” Ezeki relented. “You escaped the Shade and became a Flame to, what, repent for your crimes?”

“Of course not,” Desmond denied, sounding dumbfounded at the suggestion. “I know their role is scarcely distinguishable from the Shade’s. I became a Flame to hide from my parents. They want me dead for my betrayal, and from my experience against the Great Flame I knew that it was a good place to hide. I dyed my fur and submitted myself under a new name,” he continued, tapping a paw to his blue accents.

“What do you mean by the Great Flame being a good place to hide?” Ezeki puzzled. “It seems like you’d interact with criminals more there than anywhere else.”

“Do you know how difficult it is to tell one mediocre young Flame from another?” Desmond asked in return. “Countless fresh faces, all in beige and red, called to minor assignments and accomplishing nothing significant all throughout the Cage. So long as I tempered my skills to not do anything of note, I would be impossible to search for, all while keeping a closer eye on the Shade than anyone else.”

Ezeki nodded in sudden realization, smiling at Desmond’s logic.

“I’ve worked with the Flame for a long time, and that sounds about right,” Ezeki agreed with a laugh. “I suppose us meeting wasn’t coincidence in that case. You must’ve known that Pekari or someone like him committed that murder and volunteered to monitor the investigation.”

“I knew,” Desmond confirmed, “though what I said at the time is still true. Normally, the younger Flames argue over who takes such a dull and disgusting assignment, so none of them contested when I volunteered myself.”

“I figured they’d be curious about murder cases,” Ezeki questioned.

“Murder is far less interesting in the Cage.”

“Of course. Almost forgot where I was,” Ezeki sighed. “You must’ve been so intent on nobody knowing you arrested Pekari so that they couldn’t leak it to the Shade.”

“That is the reason. There’s a second reason I wanted to take the case, though, and it’s the same reason I gave you the information you needed to arrest Pekari.”

Ezeki smiled and gave Desmond a sly smile.

“Go on,” he prompted.

“Pekari is, as you correctly assumed, a trusted and highly skilled assassin for the Shade. His standing is high enough that he may even know the location of the Shade’s central compound.”

“You can’t expect him to give that information up,” Ezeki rebutted.

“I don’t, but that is irrelevant,” Desmond continued, unfettered. “My parents did their work from that hideout. I know where it is, but if I told the Flames, the Shade would track the information back to me. If I tell you, however, and you interrogate Pekari, you can act as though he disclosed the information when you tell the Flames.”

“Their headquarters is raided by Flames and Pekari takes the fall,” Ezeki finished, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Nobody’s ever the wiser.”

“That is my plan - if you are willing to help me. I believe we can deal a lethal blow to the Shade, possibly capturing my parents and ensuring no criminal in the Cage is ever willing to work with the organization again.”

“I’ve never been more excited to do anything,” Ezeki expressed. He stood up from his bench and offered his paw confidently towards Desmond, who hopped up and shook it.

“Then it is agreed,” Desmond confirmed.

“So, then, where is it?” Ezeki asked as he let go of Desmond’s paw. “The compound.”

Desmond gave a sly smile.

“The luxury boarding house two turns from the Capital,” he directed slowly and with as much dramatic flair as Ezeki though Desmond could muster. “They just call it the hotel. Every room is rented by the Shade, and they work from within it.”

Ezeki’s jaw dropped. He stared at Desmond with a dumbfounded expression before laughing aloud.

“The Cage is a special place,” Ezeki spoke as he gained control of his laughter. “I’m glad I came out here.”

“You must interrogate Pekari and tell the Flames of the location, but before then, rest,” Desmond recommended. “I apologize for keeping you up this long, especially after such an intense and confusing sequence of events.”

“I won’t lie and say I wasn’t angry about it,” Ezeki admitted, “but the ends most certainly justify the means.”

“May they continue to do so,” Desmond wished as he turned to walk away.

“I thought fortune was for the unprofessional,” Ezeki snarked.

“The only thing I’ve ever been a professional in is murder,” Desmond refuted, still looking away from Ezeki.

“Then let us be amateur,” Ezeki agreed as he stepped backwards away from the benches. “Sleep well.”

“You more so,” he responded.


	4. Flame

With a generous excess of energy, Ezeki shoved open the metal door and stepped out of the holding cell. He was careful to hold onto its handle, however, and made sure the door didn’t crush one of the Flames standing guard beside it.

The chapter house was well-lit, with a brightly burning lantern hanging in the space between each of the eight cell doors. All included, it was a very small building, built as a basic meeting point and holding area that could fit into the dense capital district. Behind its short front desk was a hall of holding cells and an office fit into the corner opposite the front door.

Ezeki closed the door behind him with as much of a slam as he could muster and turned around, an excited grin on his face.

“I’ve some very important information for the chapter,” he revealed. The two Flames beside the door – one a wiry, white-and-yellow Aquilion, the other a red feline creature – looked as though they had woken up moments ago.

“The captain’s in his office,” The Flame he’d nearly hit with the door diverted, sounding thoroughly uninterested. “Are you done with him?”

“I am,” Ezeki answered. “Thank you both.”

The Aquilion shrugged in response.

“I’m not paying for you,” they yawned, “though we do have to move this idiot halfway across the Cage.”

“Fair point. Best of luck,” Ezeki wished as he turned away. He saw the feline creature open their mouth as if to say something, but instead waved their paw, rubbed their eyes with fatigue, and opened the door to Pekari’s cell.

Ezeki walked past the rest of the holding cells and opened the lavish wooden door to the house’s office.

Inside, Ezeki saw Captain Ramia writing on letter-sized parchment. She was an authoritative-looking Olet with black and red feathers, and she wore a Flame sash identical to those of her subordinates. The office itself was less aggressively lit than the rest of the house, but what light there was illuminated the two stacks of shelves that ascended from the two sides of her desk, as well as the papers covering it. They were sorted in clear yet not necessarily neat stacks.

A framed full map of the Cage hung centrally on the wall behind her directly under one of the room’s lanterns. On the other walls were traditional illustrations detailing the core tenants of the Great Flame.

“You seem excited,” she spoke calmly as she looked up at Ezeki. “What’s got you up earlier than my Flames?”

“I gleaned some very valuable information from my interrogation of Pekari, ma’am,” Ezeki responded, tempering his energy with respect.

“Right, the gutter thief you arrested – against the terms of your agreement with the Flame,” she responded harshly. “Do you expect me to believe anything he said?”

“He is not simply a gutter thief, ma’am. He is a trained afflicted assassin, and he was employed by an organized crime unit. I was able to extract the location of their headquarters – the Brut luxury rooms, merely two turns from the capital building.”

“A good gutter thief,” she corrected sarcastically. “What’s so tantalizing about this spot that makes it worth going out on one hotshot afflicted’s claims?”

“This isn’t just another smash-and-grab gang,” Ezeki emphasized. “They’re a complex and highly skilled hierarchy of professional thieves, murderers, and manipulators, ma’am. They’re digging for power over the Assembly, and they’ll do anything to get it. Murder, threats, blackmail, and extortion are standard practice.”

With a sigh, she sat up, crossed her wings, and looked skeptically at Ezeki.

“I’ll get the Capital’s chapters to knock down their door,” she agreed reluctantly, “but if this is a hoax, it’s showing up on your record, not mine.”

“It won’t disappoint you, ma’am,” Ezeki reassured with a satisfied grin.

“How many of the rooms are owned by them? Should I be expecting unrelated guests?”

“Pekari said it all rented out by them, but I am not implying you should bust the doors down right away,” Ezeki relented. “Only to check the place out. With backup.”

“I suppose the chapter owes you that much,” she admitted. “I’ll have a force at their doorstep before late shift.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Ezeki responded appreciatively with a nod. “You won’t regret this.”

“Arguable. Now go write your report so we can both be done with this,” she commanded with a dismissive wave of her wing. “Shiguto’s case was already a nightmare. I didn’t need you playing operating captain and making it worse.”

“It wasn’t a gamble I made lightly,” Ezeki defended as he turned back towards the door, “but you’ll read about it all anyway.”

“By an oversight of our lord, I’ll have to,” she grumbled. “Don’t die.”

“You neither,” Ezeki wished as he walked out the office door, closing it silently behind him.

* * *

With a yawn, Ezeki brought his eyes up from his roughly illustrated Cage map. Towering before him was a tall, intricately carved building with four layers of windows looking outwards. It was positioned near the wall of the Cage, and its sides shared thin alleyways with other buildings. The walls were made of rough white stone and far up them hung a sign reading “The Brut”, the letters bodaciously gilded.

Its front doors were obscured by a crowd of creatures, all gazing upwards with glassy eyes. A reinforced line of armored Flames held them back from the front of the building. Faint sounds of slashing, crashing, and aggressive shouting echoed from the swung-open front doors.

Ezeki took a step back from the crowd, stretched his arms, and smiled with satisfaction.

“Where is Pekari?” Desmond’s voice spoke up from below Ezeki’s right ear. He jumped slightly and looked down at Desmond, who stood right beside him. His Flame sash hung around his chest.

“At the chapter house. His execution will be soon,” Ezeki explained.

“He’s the only Shade who knows the truth,” Desmond noted.

“That’s right,” Ezeki proudly agreed. “All they’ll ever know is that their favorite assassin got caught and betrayed them all. You’re finally a free man.”

“Unless someone escapes,” Desmond added in his ice-cold tone.

“You’re not genuinely thinking someone will escape, are you?”

“I can make sure they don’t.”

Ezeki racked his head from side to side to show his consideration.

“You can’t capture everyone yourself,” Ezeki retorted. “You’ve got someone in mind, don’t you?”

“My parents were the only ones who wanted me dead. The rest of the Shade was just complying.”

“I see what you’re doing,” Ezeki teased with a smirk. “Well, you’re certainly not obedient to anyone. If you want to lock them up yourself, I can’t stop you. The decision is yours.”

“If they escape, they might start all of this over again,” Desmond spoke, reinforcing his point. “I need to make sure they never reorganize.”

“If that’s what you believe,” Ezeki relented. Before he could continue, Desmond nodded and dashed into the crowd.

“Keep them lit so they don’t shadow out,” he recommended as he shook off his surprise, cupping his paws to his face and projecting his voice. “Watch out for other Flames!”

No response came from the crowd other than a few confused glances from strangers. With a reminiscent sigh, Ezeki let his arms fall to his sides, withdrew his pen from his notebook, and twirled it impatiently.

* * *

Desmond pushed his way through the crowd, weaving between complaining bodies until he met the wall of Flames that kept the crowd away from the building. He moved to the side until he stood before a gap in the line and dashed forward, slipping towards the front doors unnoticed.

From his closer viewpoint, Desmond could see several of the windows were shattered, their glass and wooden frames spread across the ground outside. Outlines moved in the rooms in ways that resembled figures in a struggle. The front doors were open, yet in-tact, and he was able to quietly close them as he entered.

With the Flames outside the building now unable to spot him, his concern shifted to ascending the staircase to the penthouse floor without being discovered. The front lobby was gracefully empty for this purpose. It was untouched compared to the scene outside the building, with no sign that any fight had taken place.

The reception desk was made of polished wood and decorated with shiny metal trinkets. It took up most of the lobby, leaving space for a few waiting chairs and a hallway for employees to enter the front office from the side. A few gaps in the decoration indicated spaces where attendants might speak with tenants. A pair of glass doors far to the right led to the cafeteria, and a staircase hugged the left wall.

He continued up to the second floor. Its hallway was thin, with the stairs taking up half its width, and it was lined with numbered and artistically etched hardwood doors. Most of their latches were broken open, leaving the doors ajar. Expensive-looking iron lanterns hung between each room. The floor was littered with metal shrapnel and splinters, as well as two torches that were strewn across the hallway next to a door broken into two halves.

Desmond walked towards the mess to grab the torches, noticing that the door had been broken open from the inside. In the room, he could see a lupine body laid out across the floor, holding a clean dagger. They had gruesomely died from a direct head impact.

He grabbed one of the torches from the ground. It was made of sturdy wood, with a heavy metal crown surrounding its wick. Using his free paw, he reached up to one of the hanging lanterns, opened its delicate glass door, and lit his torch off its flame. He picked up the second torch and tilted their wicks together, silently pleased as the second torch jumped alight. Now well-armed, he closed the lantern he’d opened and continued up the next flight of stairs.

The shouting was clearer now, and he discerned that it was coming from his floor.

“By the Great Flame, surrender!” One voice boomed.

“You will not leave this place!” another shouted in response.

Out of nowhere, the entire building shook under Desmond, forcing him to take a knee to avoid tripping. The end of the hallway became obscured by smoke, and fragments of wood and metal flew past Desmond dangerously quickly. A shout of agony echoed from an obscured body.

Getting the message, Desmond kept his head low and moved to the next set of stairs as quickly as he could. He heard the confrontations continue behind him as he turned onto the last flight of stairs.

The top floor’s walls were painted a uniform red, as opposed to the rest of the building’s garish wallpapers. The hallway was wider and only contained one door on each wall. The lanterns were built with tinted red glass, and the doors were subtly gilded.

A hushed conversation slipped out of a door around the corner. Desmond couldn’t make out the words, but he knew who the voices belonged to. His fur stood on end and he stood up straight as he rounded the corner, the sounds of battle below fading into the conversation behind the door he stalked in front of.

“We’ll make it out of this,” one voice assured, its sickeningly familiar dulcet-smooth tone moving Desmond to brandish his torch like a mace.

“How?” another responded, sounding on the verge of tears. “And what do we do after that?”

“We’ll figure it out. They won’t get us,” the first reassured.

Desmond pressed his ear to the door’s surface. He could hear drawers being torn out and furniture being upturned. Steps raced across a carpeted floor and what sounded like parchment flew liberally through the air.

Looking down at the base of the door, he could see that no light leaked out from the room.

“Where can we even go? There’s no way out of here except through them or out the window,” one of the voices questioned. Desmond took two long paces away from the door.

“I won’t let them touch you,” the other voice answered, in an even quieter tone that made Desmond feel like a wave of needles washed over him. He broke into a sprint and threw all his momentum and weight into the door, hitting it right on the latch. The metal loudly snapped open and the door swung out of his way.

He steadied himself and looked up. Looking back at him were Jessica and Remah’s wide eyes. Remah’s brown and black fur was frazzled and covered in knots, in opposition to its usually neat presentation. His short, circular ears and squat snout surrounded his expression of anger and surprise. Jessica’s maroon and black fur was somehow still neat, though her eyes were just as filled with shock.

Their penthouse suite was trashed, with papers covering every surface and all the furniture thrown hastily onto the large central bed. The floor around their feet was covered with fragments of wood.

Before either of them could react, Desmond took a confident step into the room, bringing in both torches and holding them so that their light spread across Remah. At once, both moved to surround Desmond, but he kept pushing towards Remah.

“Axel! So that’s what became of my waste of a son,” Remah spat as Desmond cornered him beside the bed. He swung a torch low, which Remah stepped backwards quickly to dodge.

“Are you here to beg for forgiveness in our time of need?” Remah spoke, with smugness in his voice that Desmond recognized.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Desmond spun around and caught Jessica in the face with the end of a torch. She stumbled over, dropping the dagger she held and clutching her jaw.

“Don’t you touch her!”

Desmond spun back towards Remah, who was nearly upon him. He rotated both torches sideways, held them against his arms, and dropped to a knee, managing to roll Remah’s tackle off himself to the side. Remah’s momentum carried him into a desk on the wall, and he tumbled beneath it, clutching his chest.

As he recovered, Desmond turned back towards Jessica, who was returning her feet. She passively raised her paws in front of her and opened her mouth to speak.

Before she could say a word, Desmond leapt at her and slammed one of his torches into her knee. She screamed ear-piercingly and fell to the ground, curled in pain and defeat.

_“That will be your last mistake,”_ a cold, enforcing voice shouted from behind him.

Turning back around, he was greeted by a mass of shadow that leapt up from his feet and smothered his torches out. In an instant, the room was cloaked in darkness, and the only detail Desmond could see was the difference between empty space and Remah’s shadow form.

As it moved to ensnare him, Desmond ducked and hopped backwards, barely clearing Jessica’s weeping body.

“Running off to become a Flame, and now running still. How disgusting.”

The shadow danced around him, and he nearly dizzied himself as he spun to keep track of it. One of its facets reached out towards him. He jumped away from it and onto the bed in the center of the room, pulling his legs up high to avoid falling face-first onto it.

“You betray me at every turn, throw the opportunity I gave you away. Now you worship a useless god for a chance at false salvation?”

With the highest leap he could muster off the shaky surface of the mattress, Desmond threw himself over the shadow as it spilled onto the bed towards him. He turned his body in the air and hugged the ceiling as close as he could. The shadow reached up and touched his sash but couldn’t find any purchase on his fur. He sailed through the air and painfully into the ground on the other side of the shadow.

Desmond crawled through the door out of the penthouse as the shadow attempted to bear down on him. Repelled by the light, it formed in on itself and reeled backwards to avoid entering the hallway.

“Do you think you can escape this?” Remah railed as Desmond pushed himself to his feet. “You’re a wretch with no emotion, nobody on your side. It seems you’ve even forgotten how to speak without us.”

Desmond looked down the hallway he’d escaped into. To his right was the staircase – too far away to reach before Remah caught up. To his left were only more penthouse rooms and a dead end.

“What do you expect to do out there? Anything more than you’d accomplish by dying right here?” Remah continued.

Glancing at his feet, Desmond noticed his shadow cast straight in front of him. Enough light came from other lanterns to block Remah from escaping in shadow form, but it was visible enough to show that there was a light source directly behind him.

“We were the only ones who even cared you existed,” Remah asserted, “and now you’ve thrown that chance away. Nobody will ever love you. Nobody ever has.”

Desmond jumped directly backwards, turned his body around mid-air, and grabbed the lantern off its hook. He let his legs press into the wall before pushing against it, throwing himself back towards Remah and slinging the lantern directly at his shadow form.

Remah cried out as the lantern forced him back into reality before smashing into his chest. Shards of glass dug into his fur and the force of the hit alongside his sudden transformation staggered him backwards. Desmond slammed his momentum into Remah to knock him to the floor.

Remah looked up at him with wide eyes as he fell to the ground with a slam. His expression was of pure shock as he gazed at Desmond standing over him.

He tried to move, but with a swift kick to the head, Desmond knocked him unconscious.

Desmond wasted no time gazing at the scene. He dusted himself off, rolled his shoulders, and walked back into the hallway, turning left out of his parent’s penthouse door to make his way towards the staircase.


	5. Epilogue

Ezeki anxiously scrawled notes into his paw-sized journal. Whatever Desmond had been doing, it was taking longer than it should, or at least longer than Ezeki expected.

The crowd was beginning to dissipate from its previous overwhelming size. Those that remained chattered with one another more than they observed the building. Bound convicts, various papers and trinkets of evidence, and injured Flames had all been carried out of the Brut’s front door. Captain Ramia had checked on the operation, and she’d given Ezeki an impressed yet suspicious glance.

He’d merely waved in response. He had no intention to include Desmond’s involvement in the report.

As he wrote, a crowd of figures staggering out of the front door caught Ezeki’s attention. Among them were several Flames covered by armor, one of whom was injured, two unconscious bodies carried by two in-tact Flames, and Desmond’s short figure in between them all.

Ezeki hurriedly put his notebook and pen back into his coat and waved a paw upwards. He swerved through the myriad groups of people as they turned back towards the Brut, stopping just before the line of Flames. The group halted to speak with one of the Flames guarding the building, a conversation Ezeki was disappointed he couldn’t overhear.

As they began their walk out of the blocked-off area, Ezeki speed-walked towards their convoy, looking right into the center.

“Desmond!” he shouted as he closed in on the Flames. Quickly coming to alert, two of them moved into Ezeki’s way.

“Sir, hold it,” one commanded, at which Ezeki stopped in his tracks. The Flame was covered in armor, with even their head protected by a custom-shaped helmet. What small portion of their fur Ezeki could see was a faded teal, and their ears were large and sharply pointed.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Ezeki apologized swiftly, “but I’m a family friend of the little Flame you brought out with you. He’s been missing since before I woke up. I need to get him back to his parents, they’re worried sick.”

At this, the Flame nodded skeptically. They turned around and looked to Desmond.

“You got anything to do with this guy?” he inquired. Desmond nodded quickly, and the Flame turned back towards Ezeki.

“Tell his parents to keep better track of him,” the Flame suggested forcefully. “I know it isn’t your job, but he could’ve been killed when he snuck in there.”

“I’ll do my best,” Ezeki agreed. The Flame stepped out of the way and back into the convoy, allowing Desmond to return to Ezeki’s side.

Ezeki gestured for Desmond to follow as he walked out of eyesight of the group and back to where they stood before, behind the now scarcely populated crowd.

“Thank you for that,” Desmond greeted as Ezeki stopped.

“I still owe you a few favors,” he reciprocated. “Did you overhear what they’re going to do with the building?”

“It’s been cleared. Once they secure my parents in the chapter house, they’re going to block the entrances, mark it as a crime scene, and dismiss the force.”

“So those were your parents they were carrying.”

“I made it to their penthouse suite. They knew who I was on sight. I did my duty as a Flame.”

“A shadow crime lord and his wife against you,” Ezeki chuckled. “I would’ve liked to see that fight. What dramatic finisher did you leave them with?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, when they were down and out, barely clinging on to consciousness,” Ezeki explained, waving his paw outwards as if to paint a scene. “What final lash did you give them before bringing them to justice?”

Desmond squinted at Ezeki, confusion in his cold voice.

“Was I supposed to say something?”

Ezeki laughed and threw his paws out in an exaggerated shrug.

“Well, even if you didn’t respond, surely they had something to say to you?” he prompted.

“They did,” Desmond admitted. “I didn’t listen.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

“It doesn’t matter. They are gone, and I am free.”

“That you are,” Ezeki agreed. “Which brings me to my real question: what’s next for you?”

Desmond looked at the ground contemplatively.

“I admit, I hadn’t thought of it often,” he answered. “Eventually, I will truly adopt Desmond as my name and leave the Cage with it, but I don’t want to leave yet.”

“What do you plan on doing as long as you stay?”

“My time with the Shade taught me about the effects of organized crime, and my experience with you has taught me how to dismantle it. I am more experienced and capable of it than the Flames are.”

“You want to arrest more mob bosses?” Ezeki inquired with glee.

“In not so many words,” Desmond reluctantly confirmed. “I could be more effective than the Flames are while still being able to call upon their force for important raids.”

Ezeki smiled and looked away from Desmond, returning his eyes to the Brut. The crowd surrounding the building had left, and all that remained were the Flames that guarded it.

“Do you recall when you said that there was nothing you could do to fix your crimes with the Shade?” Ezeki asked in a lower tone of voice.

“I do,” Desmond responded. Ezeki smiled slightly.

“Well, I’m sure you believe otherwise in your infinite wisdom,” Ezeki continued, “but for what it’s worth, I disagree with you. I think, by continuing to tear down the corruption that the Cage has built up, you can repair it.”

“It does not change those I hurt,” Desmond countered.

“But by destroying the Shade, you have already given them justice. Few people have the confidence to fight something as dangerous and abstract as organized crime. If you continue to, you can make the soulless creatures that scheme in these shadows pay ten to one for your service to them as Axel.”

“I hope to.”

Ezeki nodded, looked back at Desmond, and drew his paw up matter-of-factly.

“On a most certainly unrelated note,” Ezeki spoke, his energy returning to his voice. “I’ve got more cases I’ll be taking in the Cage. Unsurprisingly, there are quite a few confusing afflicted murder scenes in the neighborhood, and the Flame pays a premium for them.”

“I figured they would pay less,” Desmond argued.

“Despite how much they play it off, the Cage is a place that is always barely under Flame control. Unsolved killings only add to civil unrest and push their power further away.”

“I see.”

Desmond looked up at Ezeki, tilting his head curiously.

“Is that the only reason you are an investigator?” he asked. “The gold?”

Ezeki looked away and shook his head.

“As if you’d grace me with your attention,” he diverted. “I’m not the important one, you are. You did most of the work against the Shade anyway.”

“If we are to continue working together, as you seem to be suggesting, I find it essential to understand your motives. Failing to question the Shade is why I did what I did for them.”

“Fair,” Ezeki relented. “I do it because it pays well, but more than that I do it because I want to make a name for myself. I want to be interesting and important.”

“What things do you want to make happen?” Desmond interrogated.

“Honestly, I have no idea. But when I walk into a bar, I want people to stop what they’re doing because I did. I want my presence to surprise whoever served my table in a restaurant.”

“You want to be famous?”

“I suppose that’s part of it,” Ezeki admitted, sounding as though he couldn’t find the words he wanted to. “More than that, I want to be a piece of living history. I want to lead an interesting life, one filled with excitement, intrigue, and action.”

“Self-determination is a goal I certainly have experience with. I think we would both benefit from cooperation.”

“I’m glad,” Ezeki expressed. “I’ll collect my assignments through Captain Ramia’s chapter from here on out and request you for the monitor.”

“You sound familiar with her chapter,” Desmond noted.

“This was my first case inside the Cage, but by and large every chapter deals with me the same. I’ve been working with the Flames for a very long time.”

“Do you believe in the Great Flame?”

Ezeki gave an expression of struggling consideration, squinting his eyes and biting his lip.

“I don’t believe in the doctrine or god of the Flames, nor do I believe in the way they choose to treat individuals different from them,” Ezeki admitted. “But they are the only body of order and justice that is. I do not relish a theocracy, but it is preferable to anarchy, and so long as they are the only ones to enforce the law, I will help them do it.”

“It is a poor compromise,” Desmond relented apologetically.

“Certainly is. I’ve mostly learned how to predict the decisions the Great Flame makes, however, and can slant the justice they inflict to better resemble the real thing. Like making sure you never see punishment for the crimes your parents forced you to commit.”

“You have only mostly learned to predict them?”

“It bugs me too,” Ezeki sighed. “The most essential things, I get right, but there are smaller decisions that don’t fit into my predictions, and I can’t discern why. Forces being moved around erratically, paladins disappearing only to reappear far later – there’s just something I don’t know.”

“But you must have an estimation,” Desmond prodded.

“None of the changes make enough sense compared to each other for me to make a guess,” Ezeki admitted with frustration. “And I’m certainly not going to start rooting around the Flames to try and find out.”

“Wise.”

Ezeki gave a single deep laugh at Desmond’s comment.

“You know,” he continued after a moment, “I wouldn’t forecast the Flames to take a child with no known parents or family history into the Cage chapter, but I think I know the explanation for that one.”

“You must mean my acceptance,” Desmond interjected. Ezeki nodded with a smirk.

“That girl you saved. If she is the daughter of an Assembly member, no doubt she’d be able to manipulate the Flame’s decision-making through her father. She likely pulled some strings to make sure you were accepted.”

“Do you think she knew my plan?”

“She saw the good in you,” Ezeki explained. “Whatever she thought you were joining the Flames for, she paid your favor back by making sure you got in.”

“Then I am grateful,” Desmond admitted. Ezeki smiled and sighed.

“On the topic of Flames,” Ezeki started abruptly, “I need to start writing my report on Shiguto’s case and the Shade, else I’ll never get around to taking another case.”

“I should rest,” Desmond added.

“We’ve both earned some sleep. Finishing the report will take more than a little time, so I’d like to so humbly request that you don’t go looking for any more afflicted assassins to poke until I’m done.”

“The Shade was the only lead I had. It was an independent organization, mostly by the decree of my parents. Any others will have to come from your cases.”

“Then that worked itself out,” Ezeki noted, satisfied. He extended his paw down towards Desmond, who shook it firmly.

“To justice,” Desmond wished. Ezeki grinned.

“Now that’s the idea,” he encouraged. “To justice indeed.”

“I wish you all haste in your report. Waiting certainly does not serve our purposes.”

“I’ll do my best,” Ezeki agreed reluctantly. “But great work does not happen instantaneously, and anything but great work does not satisfy Captain Ramia.”

“Then start sooner,” Desmond suggested as he turned away. “Which starts with resting sooner.”

“Alright, I get it, I’ll go home,” Ezeki surrendered, putting his paws up sarcastically. “Have a good rest and do stay safe.”

“You more so,” Desmond returned with a wave.

He watched Ezeki walk away before turning his eyes back to the towering Brut. The Flames that had once stood guard around it were now nailing blockades to its doors and windows, and one affixed a sign to the front doors commanding against trespassing inside.

Desmond smiled subtly, took a deep breath, and walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely putting Ezeki and Desmond away as characters, but it'll certainly be a while before I write more of them. This is my first completed chapter fic, my longest fic, and I would argue my best yet. More than that, though, I had so much fun writing this, and I have the Nocturnal community to thank for that, especially comic author InfinityDoom. You all are the best, and I am grateful to be a part of the community.


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